Avengers Highschool AU
by ItalianLifestyle
Summary: In highschool, you have to attend certain classes, whether you dread them or cannot wait for them. The ones dreaded are sometimes the worst. Bruce has a little incident in his least favorite class: Gym.


**A/N:** I made Clint the way he is because he was not always such a nice guy.

Gym was Bruce's least favorite subject for a couple of reasons. The first being that he always ended up on the teams with the worst players. The second reason was that Clint held some sort of grudge against him and took it out on him during the class. Yet another account for his dislike of the class was that he wasn't a very athletic kid, and it had him a little uncoordinated trying to do the different sports. All these added up like a very nice math equation, the outcome of which happened to be Bruce's dread of even walking into the gymnasium.

After carefully putting his backpack and street clothes into his locker, he headed into the gym and sat on the bleachers, watching the other kids mingle as they waited for class to begin. He watched as Steve patted one of his jock buddies, the foreign exchange student, Thor, on the back, grinning from ear to ear. Thor patted him back and you could see that even Steve buckled under the weight of the heavy hand. Phil walked in wearing a suit and talking on his cell phone as usual, only to have Mr. Fury tell him to put on his gym clothes and leave the phone in his locker. Clint was leaning against the wall, talking to Natasha, who had her arms crossed over her chest and appeared to somehow be listening but not listening at the same time. A small crease between her eyebrows was the only thing that let him on to the fact that whatever Clint was saying actually bugged her. Turning his attention back to the door, Bruce watched as Tony walked in. Hope flared for a moment that he might actually have a friend in class today, but it quickly flickered out as Tony confidently strode toward Mr. Fury, pulling a folded piece of paper from his pocket. Sighing to himself, Bruce shook his head. There went Tony with his fake doctor's note and hundred dollar bill, getting himself out of gym class yet again. Having money must be nice. With the false note and cash handed off, Tony left the gym, confident smirk in place. Bruce had no idea where his friend went during the time that he wasn't in class, but wherever it was, it had to be better than the gym. With Tony out the door, Bruce turned his attention to where the other foreign exchange student, Loki, had just taken a seat on the bleachers a few rows down from where Bruce was seated. The boy took out a notebook and began scribbling a few short lines, which, judging by the format, was poetry. Bruce was about to take a closer look when Mr. Fury called the class to order.

The students scrambled into an orderly line before Mr. Fury, who looked up and down the line, trying to check who was missing. Other than Tony, the entire class was there today. This was bound to be quite the intense class.

"Alright!" Mr. Fury exclaimed, the sound of it echoing off the high ceilings of the gym. "Time to get started. I'm breaking you up into two teams for dodge ball."

Here it went again. Nerds against jocks. That's how it always ended up, and that was never a good thing for Bruce. A few times, he had ended up with some nice welts from the other team.

"Sir?" Thor asked, taking a step forward. "Can we choose our own teams this time? I want a challenge." The big guy certainly had no tact at asking it, but at least it was a chance for Bruce to hide behind a larger player and maybe not be hit quite so hard with the rubber balls.

Mr. Fury eyed the large Norwegian boy, but eventually nodded. "Have at it. You're a team captain and..." His eyes swept the group before him, looking for another candidate. "Rogers is the opposing captain."

Steve stepped out in front of the group and faced them, standing next to Thor as the two began to pick from the best players first. Bruce was picked last and ended up on Steve's team along with Natasha and quite a few rather good players, while Thor had Clint and his brother through their host family, Loki. Also on the opposing team were a few of the boys in the science club with Bruce and some of the biggest guys in the class. At least this time, the matches would be more than just one team purposely throwing balls right next to the geeks heads to make them nervous.

The teams lined up on the back walls of the gym on opposite sides. It was obvious who was in it for the game—they were crouched and ready to run for the multicolored balls along the center line of the gym—and who just wanted this ordeal over—they were the ones rubbing the goosebumps from their arms, eyes nervously flickering over the players across the way.

Mr. Fury blew the whistle, the shrill sound that started trampling feet and war cries as players tore across the court, running for the balls, grabbing them and retreating, never turning their back on the enemy, looking for someone about to lob one their way. A blur of orange flew through the air, missing Thor's head by inches, only to be caught by a very smug looking Loki who propelled the ball back through the air straight at Bruce, who only just managed to dodge behind Steve. The kid behind him wasn't quite as lucky and took the ball right to his gut. Steve picked up a lime green ball and threw it across, hitting one of the smaller boys. "Sorry!" he called as the kid walked off the court, looking a little bit in pain. Colors continued their paths back and forth, hitting and missing targets. Teams gained and lost players as the game ticked on. Bruce did his best to stick behind Steve, whose broad back made quite the nice shield. He could see Clint getting more and more frustrated as he couldn't make the shot at the little dweeb that he had a grudge against. That is, until he climbed the basketball hoop.

"I can see better from up here," he called to his team before shouting a quick warning to one of his buddies, but not quite in time as a yellow ball hit him in the knee.

"Sorry!" Steve called as that boy walked off the court, a sour look on his face.

Clint's teammates began tossing balls up for him to send across the court, figuring his height advantage would do them good. Each ball appeared to be aimed at Steve, the best player on that team, when in truth, it was aimed at the freak with glasses and braces hiding out behind the muscly teen.

Natasha appeared beside Steve and threw a ball with all her might across the court, aiming at the basketball hoop. Clint, having not thought his height advantage through, went to dodge the ball, only to wobble precariously, nearly falling off his perch. One of his feet slipped off the hoop, the rest of his body falling down as well, his bottom slipping through the hoop. He struggled, wiggling this way and that, trying to get unstuck from his embarrassing position. With a grin, Natasha tossed up another ball and hit him, effectively withdrawing him from the game.

Feeling a little confident from Clint's removal being from the game, Bruce stepped from behind Steve, a purple ball in hand and prepared to throw it across the court when one came whizzing across and hit him in the face. He could taste the warm metallic flavor of blood flooding through his mouth as his braces cut his cheek. After passing the ball on to Steve, he made his way off the court and tried to talk without swallowing any blood or spitting it out.

"Hey, Mr. Fury, can I run to the locker room?"

Seeing the blood swish about as Bruce tried to talk, the man nodded, and Bruce ran from the gym, leaving behind the humid air that reeked of adolescent sweat.

Once he was in the locker room, Bruce went to the sink and spat out the mixture of blood and spit, quickly rinsing his mouth before examining the damage in his mouth.

"Hey, Bruce," came from behind him, making him bang his head on the mirror that he had gotten too close to.

Bruce looked up to see Tony grinning at him. "What happened in there?"

"Dodgeball," Bruce said sourly, making faces in the mirror to ensure that there was no blood coating his braces. Then he straightened up and turned back to Tony. "You're lucky, you know. Clint was aiming for me the whole time."

Tony laughed and clapped Bruce on the shoulder. "He's just jealous of your intellect. Let's go see if we can get a couple of popsicles from the nurse since you cut your cheek."

"Sounds good," Bruce replied, walking out with Tony, figuring it was better than going back to the gym for the rest of class.


End file.
